


something

by destiny919



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, allison is alive because she always will be in my fics ALWAYS i SWEAR IT, scallison is background only, this was just supposed to be a drABBLE what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destiny919/pseuds/destiny919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re something!” she spluttered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something

It had been going on for about a week now.  Lydia stood by her locker and chewed her lip while staring with narrowed eyes at Stiles, down the hall talking to the new girl, Malia.  She liked Malia just fine, even if there were more than a few things . . . off about the werecoyote.  What she didn’t like was how much time she’d been spending with Stiles.   _Lydia’s_ Stiles.

“You’re staring again,” said Allison next to her. “You should just talk to him, you know.”

Lydia turned to look at her best friend and made a face. “Are you going to go all relationship-expert on me just because you’re back with Scott, now?”

Allison sighed. “Of course not.  You’ve been in a lot more relationships than me, anyway -.”

“Have not,” she interjected. “Jackson was my only real one, and look what a train wreck that was.”

“Well, you’ve certainly dated more.  I only ever dated Scott, and . . .” The huntress let the sentence trail off, a much darker expression overtaking her face.

“Yeah, you had that whatever-it-was with Isaac.” Lydia patted her friend’s shoulder. “And then probably broke his puppy heart.”

Allison batted away her hand and puffed out her cheeks in a scowl. “I did not _break his heart._  We’re fine.  We’re friends.  He and Scott are friends.”

“Sure.”

“Just like you and Stiles are friends.”

Lydia whipped her head around to look at the boy in question, still grinning as he obviously joked with Malia. “But we’re _not_ ,” she said, though it came out like a whine. “I - we’re - !”

“You’re what, Lyds?”

“We’re _something_!” she spluttered.  And then realized it was a statement very similar to what Stiles (and then she) used to say about her then-undefined abilities.  It was equally true.  They were _something_.  She didn’t know what it was, exactly.  It was mostly because, well, they hadn’t mutually admitted their feelings.  Lydia definitely had them, especially after the terror of almost losing him to the Nogitsune.  But despite his many claims to have liked her since third grade, and the - the _warmth_ she could sense from him whenever they were together, looking at him now with Malia, she couldn’t be sure he still did.  

And yet, they were _something_.  They’d shared that one frantic kiss in the locker room, though it had never been discussed between them and she’d hastily and falsely passed it off as a legitimate way to stop his panic attack, when it had actually been an uncontrollable impulse on her part.  They were the mystery-solving dynamic duo of the pack, the brains of the operation, who spent large portions of time together pouring over the latest supernatural drama unfolding.  They were together frequently aside from that, studying or simply hanging out.  And with the Nogitsune - near the end, the two of them hadn’t separated for even a second, clinging to each other, as much to support each other emotionally as it was Stiles physically.  And afterward, she had spent many hours with him, a good many of them curled up in bed, helping him recover from the trauma he’d endured.   _Something_ was between them, something powerful, and something that was still frustratingly still indefinable.  

Even if and when they did confess mutual feelings - Lydia was hesitant to call him her boyfriend.  That was a title she’d given to Jackson, and a few other meaningless boys, and what she’d had with them was nothing like what she had with Stiles.  Not as deep, and not as strong.  “Boyfriend” was too weak and casual a term.  

Unbidden, her mind called up the dreadful scenario of the sacrifice committed by Scott, Stiles, and Allison, that had carried such devastating consequences even while it saved their parents’ lives.   _Someone who can bring you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether._

Yep, too weak and casual.

But what did that leave?   _Something_.

.

. 

 

Her upset - her _jealousy_ over how often she saw Stiles with Malia persisted, and finally came to a head at the pack meeting.  

The werecoyote, rather bereft following her return to the world of humanity (a return she made clear was not a happy one), had been invited to join the pack, and so attended the meeting.  She sat right at Stiles’ left, a position usually taken by Lydia, with Scott the Alpha on his right.  Trying her hardest not to scowl, Lydia sat next to Allison who had Scott’s other side, and was annoying her with the obviousness of their desire to hold hands, but also not upset Isaac nearby.

Lydia tapped her fingers on her thigh, unable to prevent her eyes from darting over to Stiles and Malia entirely too frequently.  Scott’s big stupid head ( _sorry_ , she apologized in her head, she was just in a bad mood) was blocking her view of Stiles’ actual face, so she could never see if he was sneaking looks at her too.  In her sour, pessimistic state, she assumed that of course he wasn’t.  He was too busy gazing into the stupid glowing eyes of the new girl.  

She didn’t pay much attention to the pack’s discussion, too busy working herself up over imagined scenarios between Stiles and Malia.  Therefore she contributed far less than she usually did, and of course Stiles with his uncanny skills of observation had to notice.

He caught up with her at the end, when everyone was in the process of leaving.  He gently grabbed her wrist as she was about to stalk out the door after Allison, who’d only just finished sharing a stare-into-each-other’s-eyes goodbye with Scott. “Hey, Lyds, is everything okay?” he asked, voice stupidly earnest and eyes damnably full of caring.

She yanked away. “Everything’s fine,” she growled untruthfully.  Of course Stiles would call her on that.

“Doesn’t sound fine.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anything I can do?”

Lydia broke a little.  Except that just let out her aggravation - which did cover up not a little hurt. “You can, you can stop all _that_!” She gestured wildly at him, painfully aware in the back of her mind that she was flailing like he always did.

“All what?” Stiles flailed back. “What am I doing, Lydia?”

“You’re - !” She stopped and grit her teeth. _Okay, Martin, it’s now or never_.  But not here, right by the front door, with that bitch Malia - _no, bad self, Malia is nice_ \- waving goodbye with criminal amounts of cheer, and Isaac slinking out after Scott like the sad puppy he was.  She grabbed Stiles’ hand, not his wrist, his _hand_ , and dragged him into the empty kitchen.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest and glare leveled at him with all the viciousness of a starving lioness.  He looked a confusing mix of apprehensive, contrite, and pissed off. “Well?” He threw his hands up in the air. “What’s going on?”

“What are you doing with Malia?” Her voice came out surprisingly level.

His eyebrows flew up his forehead and his hands dropped back to his sides. “Nothing.  She’s nice, and she’s been having a hard time adjusting.  So I’m trying to help her out . . . Why?” She couldn’t suppress a large sigh of relief.

“I - nothing.” Lydia looked away, feeling her cheeks heat.

It was Stiles’ turn to scowl at her. “What do you care, anyway?  We’re not together.”

She raised her head to look at him again so fast her neck cricked. “I care because you and I, we’re - we’re - !”

“We’re _what_ , Lydia!” He was yelling now.

“We’re _something_!” she shrieked back.

Stiles’ anger evaporated immediately, his eyes going wide and mouth dropping open slightly. “We - we are?” he rasped out.

“Yes,” she said tersely. “We are.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Any idea exactly what?”

“No,” she muttered. “I - I couldn’t think of a term good enough. ‘Boyfriend’ didn’t quite cut it.”

“As in - ?” He paused, and tried to breathe normally.  He failed. “As in, _more than_ boyfriend?”

Lydia nodded. “So, I don’t have a label.  But, we are _something_.  Just like I was.  Eventually we’ll get the relationship equivalent of the ‘banshee’ definition.  And until then,” she took three long strides over to him, and jabbed her finger lightly into his chest, “we are something _exclusive_.  Okay?”

Stiles looked rather gobsmacked, but recovered with admirable speed. “Okay.” He looked a little nervous now. “Does that something include kissing?”

She pretended to contemplate this for a moment. “Yes.  Yes it does.” And she grabbed him by the front of his tshirt to pull him down so his nose touched hers. “Will you do the honors?” she asked with fake solemnity.

He nodded with solemnity that wasn’t fake at all.  And then he kissed her.

And damn, it was _something_.

**Author's Note:**

> That ending is so dorky I love it. Though I fear I overused italics in this...


End file.
